


my love is strong (i know yours is too)

by strong



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:13:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9444965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strong/pseuds/strong
Summary: louis sings a song he wrote for harry (inspired by louis' harry-esque instagram post)





	

**Author's Note:**

> totally and completely inspired by louis' insta post and totally and completely taken from [this song by dandelion hands](https://dandelionhands.bandcamp.com/track/my-love-is-strong-i-know-yours-is-too)
> 
> this is really just meaningless fluff, but it's nice to have something to post after a year's absence. hi. i'm back.

The aftermath of the holiday season always leaves the world feeling softer, calmer. Strings of icicle lights are slowly peeled from roofs, and colorful pieces of tinsel mixed with evergreen bristles are swept away as the last boxes of decorations are packed up for the year. All of the festive music that seems to follow Louis around the world is replaced by silence or the typical bustle of city life as people snap out of their daze and embrace reality once again. Everyone is ready to tackle the year with stacks of resolutions they can only hope will last at least the first few weeks, lest they have to plot out elaborate lies with red strings and thumb tacks in order to fool their friends into envying them at each Sunday brunch.

A few days into the New Year, Louis wakes to tiny hands digging into his ribs and tangling into his hair. He feigns oblivion until one of the little monsters is close enough to breathe on his face, and then he launches at them, scooping them into his bed with screaming and giggling filling the air. 

“Achoo,  _ no, _ ” Dorris scolds with a light smack once her screeching has stopped. Louis snorts and looks up to Lottie, who’s standing at the edge of the bed suppressing her own laughter with tired eyes. The weak sunlight illuminates her and gives everything in the room an ethereal glow.

“You’ve got to get used to this, Dory! You wake the beast, you get the– jesus, nevermind, I have no idea where I was going with that,” Louis huffs in exhaustion, hugging the toddlers closer to him. His eyes slip shut once they fall placant in his arms until Lottie clears her throat. One eye blinks open, and she stares into it with a knowing gaze, truly embodying their mother’s spirit.

“Aren’t you going to prep for our guest?” She asks, tilting her head so that her bubblegum pink bun flops over. The children’s ears practically perk up, and suddenly they’re jumping about the bed, jostling Louis around as they chant  _ who, who, who? _

Louis yawns, nods, and scratches his bare chest, pretending that his heart isn’t gnawing at his ribs at the thought of Harry returning to Doncaster after spending the holidays in his hometown. “You’ll see in a little bit. How about you go watch some telly with Lotts while I get ready, yeah?”

They reluctantly roll off his bed, latching onto Lottie’s legs as she heads back down the hall. Louis didn't sleep much last night, if he’s completely honest. Neither did Harry, of course, considering they were up texting until long into the A.M., droning on about how absurd it is that they could be on opposite sides of the world yet still look up to the same moon. It was Louis who eventually brought up the topic of alternate universes, and it really all spiralled out of control from there.

By the time Louis joins the family in the living room, Lottie, and Felicite are curled on opposite ends of a sofa, nursing mugs of tea while all of the youngest siblings fool around with in the kitchen. Louis tiptoes over and tries to steal one of the steaming cinnamon roll that has already been iced, but Phoebe and Daisy shoo him away, threatening to spray the icing right into his eyes. Doris and Ernest get a laugh out of that, but Louis backs away in genuine fear, arms raised in surrender. Lottie joyfully pats the space between her and Felicite, so Louis drops down there instead, crossing his legs so that each knee falls on top of his sisters’ thighs.

From the smell of baked dough to the familiarity that comes with the clean split of chaos and calm, it’s mornings like this that remind him of all that he has, and all the good that’s surrounding him. Despite what he and everyone in this room has been through– not just recently, but throughout their lives– they’re able to come together and form a home that’s safe and comforting no matter the circumstance. Louis steals a sip of Lottie’s tea and leans into her while he wraps an arm around Felicite’s shoulders, finding solace in their warmth.

“When is Haz supposed to get here?” Felicite questions once they finally have the sweet rolls warming their laps and their fingers are sticky from all the melted icing.

He lazily shrugs. “I don’t know. I texted him when I got up and he said he was running late, which is really fucking vague, but that’s all he’s giving me according to my eight messages that were left on ‘read’.”

“Well, I think we were all going to take a trip out to the mall if you wanted to go, otherwise you can stay here and wait for him,” Lottie offers, nudging him with her elbow.

Louis hums in deliberation. “So you’re saying I can either squish myself in a car with you lot and walk around a mall for a few hours or I could have the whole place to myself until my boy arrives? That is  _ quite _ the decision, I tell ya.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Lottie exclaims at the same time Felicite tells him to shut up. They begin knocking him from one side to the other while he stutters out protests.

“I’ll just stay back, alright? But only so I can see Harry sooner, not because I don’t want to spend time with my lovely family,” he amends with a thin grin once they’ve stopped their abuse.

They all roll their eyes in the way that family members do, where you know that they’re genuinely exhausted by your antics yet they can’t help but adore you. They spend the rest of the morning idly chatting about the happenings of friends and family members, sipping warm tea and munching on sweets left over from Christmas that they all know they would’ve been scolded by their mum for eating so early in the day. Laughter fills the room until everyone has to get ready, and they leave him with hugs goodbye and winks from the eldest members of the household, which Louis brushes off with a flip of his finger.

Once the house is silent, Louis’ stomach twists in anticipation. To distract himself for the time being, he puts up dishes and rinses them by hand, carefully handling the glass while he hums some songs he’s been working on. The lyrics stick to his brain and knock around until he has nothing to tie his hands but his phone. It’s then that they win. After dragging his guitar out from his bedroom, he props his legs up and settles into the leather loveseats in front of the garden door.

His fingers are raw from the amount he’s played lately. There have been so many thoughts and questions spinning wildly in his mind that he’s had no choice but to express them in songs. While he acknowledges’ the support around him, none of it settles between his bones and mends them like music does. He finds that more healing can come from writing a song on the inside of his arm at two in the morning than from any deep talk or rant typed in the heat of a moment.

Outside, the sky is a light grey that reminds him of the days where snow falls thick and coats the world in a thick layer of vanilla icing. He wants to believe that those days are coming soon, but with the unseasonably high temperatures, his heart refuses to let the hope dig its way too far into him. The garden is a forest of scraggly bushes, knee-high grass, and violet buds that Louis can appreciate but not name. Soon enough, he finds himself craving a shot of nicotine. Normally he avoids smoking when he’s here, especially in the house, but, since he’s alone, he swings the door open and lays back, plucking at the strings as he hums around a cigarette. He blows the smoke outside, watching it curl until it becomes too thin and disappears with the clouds.

“If you don’t post this photo, I’m going to,” a voice echoes in the hollow space. When it reaches Louis’ ears, he nearly drops the cigarette into the guitar. His wide eyes catch on the phone Harry lowers and tucks into his pocket, then follow Harry’s movements until he’s pressed right against Louis’ back. Suddenly it feels as though they’ve never been apart. “Hi. Can I have a hit?”

Louis lolls his head back on Harry’s shoulder and reaches his hand up to Harry’s mouth. He watches the smoke travel above his head. “Hi, you’re late.”

“I woke up late, and once I got on the road I was going to fast to risk texting you back. I’m not sure how no cops got me,” Harry laughs. The sound resonates in Louis’ skull.

“You could’ve charmed your way out. You’re a fucking trademarked pop star with the sodding dimples and all.” Louis nearly rolls off the sofa trying to place his cigarette in the ashtray he set on the floor.

“Speaking of pop stars–”

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Louis interrupts before Harry can even try to label him as one. 

Harry stuffs a pillow under Louis’ head so he can rest comfortably in his lap. “Come on, I just want to know what you’ve been working on.

“Things,” Louis states ominously. 

Harry isn’t having it. He dips down so that his necklace is tickling Louis’ ear and his nose is perpendicular to Louis’. “Play me something,” he whispers before kissing Louis’ cheek.

Louis shifts positions with a huff. He buries his socked feet under Harry’s thighs, searching for warmth. The breeze from outside blows his hair sideways into his eyes, but it’s a refreshing sensation despite the bitterness. He finally has the opportunity to take in Harry’s maroon jumper, suede boots, and the bakery box sitting by them, hopefully filled with the croissants with the honey in the middles that Louis fell in love with in Italy.

“I’ll play you a song I wrote a few nights ago if you show me that there are honey croissants in that box,” Louis decides, considering it a definite win on his part either way. 

Harry’s red lips creep up at the corners as he lifts the top of the box to reveal four sugar-coated croissants. “I’m ready for my serenade now.”

“Now, this isn’t an elaborate love song or anything, alright, so don’t get yourself all worked up,” Louis explains as he adjusts himself with the guitar resting on his stomach. 

“One hundred percent not worked up, Sir,” Harry salutes, and Louis snorts.

“You’re not in France anymore, Dorothy,” he laughs, and Harry lets out a solid cackle at that, a sound that’s only tugged from the depths of him in the purest of moments. Louis’ heart stutters in adoration.

“Just play the song, Lou. I promise it’ll be incredible whether it’s one shitty line or a fifty-line Shakespearean sonnet.”

So Louis’ fingers work the strings and he quietly sings the words he remembers desperately typing into the notes app on his phone when he awoke from a dream one night with a million ideas. It was a dream of distance, but rather than hours or oceans it was galaxies. It left Louis feeling hopelessly lonely, and he awoke with a similar feeling in his chest that he knew would produce lyrics if he got them down quick enough. It’s a raw declaration of his love for Harry and his faith in their relationship. 

When he finishes, Harry kisses him slowly, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth before they smile like lovesick fools. They share the sickeningly sugary pastries, folded together on the sofa while birds chat mindlessly right outside, their songs swept in by the cool wind. There are many homes in Louis’ life, some thousands of miles away and some in places he’ll never see again, but right now, this feels like more of a home than anything else in the world. His wounds stop screaming at every spare moment, and with warm bodies pressed against him and tangled up with him and running about the room, he feels that everything will be alright.

 

-

 

_ i know we're far  _ __  
_ but not for long  _ __  
_ soon we'll be together  _ __  
_ singing our song  _ __  
__  
_ my love is strong  _ __  
_ i know yours is too  _ __  
_ nothing i want more than  _ __  
_ to be holding you  _ __  
__  
_ 8000 miles  _ __  
_ don't seem so far  _ __  
_ when i think of you  _ __  
_ at my guitar  _ __  
__  
_ the notes flood out  _ __  
_ they remind me why we try  _ __  
_ kiss the pain away  _ _  
_ __ when you start to cry


End file.
